Tells
by UnfathomableFandoms
Summary: "Every time you get nervous, you run a hand through your hair." "Every time?" Hera always envied Kanan's hair, and loved to play with it. But some nights... it's a reminder of something he used to do under a different name.


**(This was inspired by Kanan:** # **3 and the theory floating around that Hera likes to play with Kanan's hair. This is probably sometime after FATG, but you can set it whenever you want. Thanks, RadCat.)**

Hera paused outside Kanan's closed doorway. It was silent on the _Ghost,_ the kind of quiet that suffocated you in your own thoughts.

It was late at night, and Hera was doing her routine check-up through the ship after landing in a barren field on Lothal for the night. She strolled through the dim, quiet _Ghost,_ making sure everything was in order for the next day.

Kanan's light was not on, in fact, underneath that doorway it seemed darker than anything in the room.

Hera knew she should leave him be, as to not wake him if he really was asleep. But Hera knew on nights like these, sleep was near unimaginable, a place where the darkness crept in dreams. Some nights, even Hera could sense that something was wrong with the air around Kanan. She wondered if Ezra felt it too.

Hera's hand hovered above the pad that would admit her into the room. Her finger twitched, and the door swung open with a sound that echoed through the _Ghost's_ silent hull.

"Kanan?" Hera didn't step into the room yet, lingering in the doorway. In the shadows, Hera could barely make out Kanan's shirtless, bent form. He sat on his bed, folded in on himself. He looked so small and hopeless, like a child petrified of monsters in the darkness. Hera supposed that wasn't far from the truth.

Hera stepped into the ink-black room, and the door closed behind her. She could barely see anymore, not without the dim nightlights in the hall. Everything was washed in shadow. Kanan didn't say a word, still siting with his legs jumping up and down nervously. He was shaking.

Hera didn't know much about his past, not much further than his job shipping explosives on Gorse. But Kanan had given her enough to know that he couldn't be left alone with the memories, lest they destroy the Jedi.

Hera sat beside Kanan, taking off her gloves and rubbing his back. He was sweating, clammy, cold yet hot at the same time. The muscles in his back tightened and he flinched under her contact. He still stayed silent, his eyes lost in the shadows.

She ran her hand down his back, trying to soothe him without words. She could feel him breathing, slow yet uneven. He leaned into her touch, humming lowly in his chest.

At least he had acknowledged her presence. That was the first step to setting him free.

Hera reached up, pulling the hairtie out of his hair. It sprang free, silky and smooth, hanging like drapes around his face. It settled around his jaw, nearly reaching his broad shoulders. Kanan made a strangled sound, not quite a protest.

Hera ran a hand through the soft locks, gently stroking his scalp. He leaned in tentatively, only for a second, before pulling away. His hand shot up, grabbing her wrist, squeezing. Hera decided not to tell him it hurt, knowing it would make him feel worse.

"No." He choked out.

Hera ghosted a kiss against his cheek, his hair tickling her lips. "What is it, Love?" She twisted her wrist free, stroking his scalp again.

"That. Don't-don't do that. Not tonight." Kanan leaned away, tugging a hand through his own hair this time. In the shadows, his eyes gleamed, something like tears. His mouth tugged down, and he let out a choked sob, almost a rueful laugh that broke. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Hera's hand dropped to her lap. "Why?" She whispered.

"It- it's something I used to do- _he_ used to do before-"

Hera bit her lip. It was rare for him to share something so intimate about his past. She wished it could have been happier. "Order 66?" She cursed that blasted Order, the one thing that had changed Kanan, morphed him into something he clearly wasn't.

Hera knew it was irrational. They never would have met if not for Order 66, but at least Kanan would have been happier, without her. Hera shook her head, shaking away the tears brewing in her eyes.

"It was a-a 'tell'. Something I had to leave behind."

Suddenly Hera opened her eyes to a new part of Kanan that he had unlocked for her.

Kanan tied back his hair, almost symbolic of the way he had to hold back the memories, hold back his powers and everything he was to live.

He had left behind a part of him, and he had to hold it back.

Hera found herself speaking aloud. "Don't hold it back." Realizing it probably sounded off-topic, she tried again. "You can tell me, Kanan. Anything you want."

Kanan took a deep, shuddering breath. "-leb." He sighed, a whispered something she didn't catch. She ran a hand down his back again in encouragement.

Kanan's spine straightened, as if some pressure had been released. He spoke again, steadier this time.

"Caleb. His name was Caleb."

Hera shut her mouth and listened.

He spoke with a new sort of fervor, as if digging up something lost, some essential part of him he had forgotten he needed. He spoke in vague tones, just a few names. Depa. Master. _Caleb_. Styles, Grey. Janus Kasmir. She shuddered to think what had befallen the poor boy he spoke of called Caleb. Kanan whispered something she could barely hear, something about _He died…killed him._ But Hera had heard enough.

She eased Kanan down onto the pillow, rubbing his arms and hugging him from behind. He hummed, shutting his eyes.

She only really got names, a few low tones about who they were and what happened, but it was a gift she had never imagined getting. Each word was a weight he no longer carried alone.


End file.
